It was late at night, like it always was. She liked to stay up late, on her computer. She didn't know exactly what the impulse was, just to go straight to the computer at night… but it was almost like an obsession. The constant need to be around people. Wanting attention, never getting enough. It was her whole life. She talked to him. Like always, but now, now something had changed. It scared her; he was the one she'd always thought would stand by her forever. But high school, well, it changed all that. It had even changed her. She looked at the lacerations on her wrist, suddenly feeling the desire pulse through her. I need to cut, she thought.
How many people would be disappointed when they checked her wrist again? How many disgusted, when they felt the rough surface. It was like a disease. Spreading like fucking wildfire.
Stupid fuckers, don't know what they're doing. Driving her mad, cutting so slowly. And the blood running, it was almost a fetish. She just wanted more. The computer made a ping. It was him, oh how crazy he made her. It made no sense. Her, with a rave boy, whose ideas she didn't understand at all, him, with her, some crazy, emo freak. Everyone pretended not to think it, but, really. She herself would.
Slut. Emo. Freak. Hoebag.
That was just the beginning.